Lucian

"I will tell you," [said Eucrates,] "another incident derived from my own
experience, not from hearsay. Perhaps even you, Tychiades, when you have
heard it, may be convinced of the truth of the story."

When I was living in Egypt during my youth (my father had sent me
traveling for the purpose of completing my education), I took it into my
head to sail up to Koptos and go from there to the statue of Memnon in
order to hear it sound that marvelous salutation to the rising sun. Well,
what I heard from it was not a meaningless voice, as in the general
experience of common people; Memnon himself actually opened his mouth and
delivered me an oracle in seven verses, and if it were not too much of a
digression, I would have repeated the very verses for you. But on the
voyage up, there chanced to be sailing with us a man from Memphis, one of
the scribes of the temple, wonderfully learned, familiar with all the
culture of the Egyptians. He was said to have lived underground for
twenty-three years in their sanctuaries, learning magic from Isis.

That self-same Pancrates, and at first I did not know who he was, but when
I saw him working all sorts of wonders whenever we anchored the boat,
particularly riding on crocodiles and swimming in company with the beasts,
while they fawned and wagged their tails, I recognized that he was a holy
man, and by degrees, through my friendly behavior, I became his companion
and associate, so that he shared all his secret knowledge with me.

At last he persuaded me to leave all my servants behind in Memphis and to
go with him quite alone, for we should not lack people to wait upon us;
and thereafter we got on in that way. But whenever we came to a stopping
place, the man would take either the bar of the door or the broom or even
the pestle, put clothes upon it, say a certain spell over it, and make it
walk, appearing to everyone else to be a man. It would go off and draw
water and buy provisions and prepare meals and in every way deftly serve
and wait upon us. Then, when he was through with its services, he would
again make the broom a broom or the pestle a pestle by saying another
spell over it.

Though I was very keen to learn this from him, I could not do so, for he
was jealous, although most ready to oblige in everything else. But one day
I secretly overheard the spell -- it was just three syllables -- by taking
my stand in a dark place. He went off to the square after telling the
pestle what it had to do, and on the next day, while he was transacting
some business in the square, I took the pestle, dressed it up in the same
way, said the syllables over it, and told it to carry water.

When it had filled and brought in the jar, I said, "Stop! Don't carry any
more water. Be a pestle again!"

But it would not obey me now; it kept straight on carrying until it filled
the house with water for us by pouring it in! At my wit's end over the
thing, for I feared that Pancrates might come back and be angry, as was
indeed the case, I took an axe and cut the pestle in two; but each part
took a jar and began to carry water, with the result that instead of one
servant I had now two.

Meanwhile Pancrates appeared on the scene, and comprehending what had
happened, turned them into wood again, just as they were before the spell,
and then for his own part left me to my own devices without warning,
taking himself off out of sight somewhere.

"Then you still know how to turn the pestle into a man?" said Deinomachus.

"Yes," said he. "Only half way, however, for I cannot bring it back to its
original form if it once becomes a water carrier, but we shall be obliged
to let the house be flooded with the water that is poured in!"

"Will you never stop telling such buncombe, old men as you are? " said I.
" If you will not, at least for the sake of these lads put your amazing
and fearful tales off to some other time, so that they may not be filled
up with terrors and strange figments before we realise it. You ought to be
easy with them and not accustom them to hear things like this which will
abide with them and annoy them their lives long and will make them afraid
of every sound by filling them with all sorts of superstition."

This episode (untitled in the original) is taken from the dialogue
The Lover of Lies.

Lucian
of Samasota (ca. A.D. 125 - ca, A.D. 180) was an Assyrian satirist who
wrote in the Greek language. His purpose in The Lover of Lies was
to belittle belief in supernatural tales of the type presented here.

This tale is the basis of Johann Wolfgang von Goethe's famous ballad
"Der Zauberlehrling"
("The Sorcerer's Apprentice," 1797), which in turn inspired the symphonic
poem L'apprenti sorcier (1897) by Paul Dukas. This story and music
feature prominently in Walt Disney's animated film Fantasia (1940,
2000), with Mickey Mouse playing the role of the hapless sorcerer's
apprentice.

Germany

A pastor at Krailsheim had old large books secured with chains to the
walls and ceilings of a vaulted room. One time a servant girl was alone
in this room, and out of curiosity she opened one of the books and read
aloud a passage from it. Suddenly the entire room was crawling with mice,
causing the servant girl to cry for help.

At her cry the pastor the pastor came to her, and she hurriedly told him
what had happened. He then read the passage from end to beginning, upon
which the mice all disappeared.

Russia

A soldier was quartered in a certain town. He had taken to study the black
art, and had got possession of books which dealt therewith. One day,
during his absence from his quarters, one of his comrades came to see him.
Not finding him at home, the visitor took up one of the soldier's books,
and for want of other occupation began to read it. It was in the evening,
and he read by the light of a lamp. The book was full of names and nothing
else.

He had read about half of the names when he raised his head, and looking
around him, saw that the room was full of diabolical looking beings. The
soldier was struck with terror, and not knowing what to do, began again to
read the book. After reading for some little time, he again looked round
him; the number of spirits had increased. Again he read, and having
finished the book, looked again around him. By this time the number of
demons had so much increased that there was barely space for them in the
room. They sat upon each other's shoulders, and pressed continually
forward round the reader. The soldier saw that the situation was serious;
he shut the book, closed his eyes, and anxiously awaited his comrade.

The spirits pressed closer and closer upon him, crying, "Give us work to
do -- quick!"

The soldier reflected awhile, and then said, "Fill up the cisterns of all
the baths in the town with water brought thither in a sieve."

The demons flew away. In two minutes they returned and said, "It is done!
Give us some more work to do -- quick!"

" Pull the Voivode's [governor's] house down, brick by brick -- but take
care you do not touch or disturb the inmates; then build it up again as it
was before."

The goblins disappeared, but in two minutes returned. "It is done!" they
cried. "Give us more work -- quick!"

"Go," said the soldier," and count the grains of sand that lie at the
bottom of the Volga, the number of drops of water that are in the river,
and of the fish that swim in it, from its source to its mouth."

The spirits flew away; but in another minute they returned, having
executed their task. Thus, before the soldier could think of some new
labor to be done, the old one was completed, and the demons were again at
his side demanding more work. When he began to think what he should give
them, they pressed round him, and threatened him with instant death if he
did not give them something to do. The soldier was becoming exhausted, and
there was yet no sign of his comrade's return. What course should he take?
How deliver himself from the evil spirits?

The soldier thought to himself, "While I was reading the book, not one of
the demons came near me. Let me try to read it again; perhaps that will
keep them off."

Again he began to read the book of magic, but he soon observed that as he
read, the number of phantoms increased, so that soon such a host of the
spirit world surrounded him that the very lamp was scarcely visible. When
the soldier hesitated at a word, or paused to rest himself, the goblins
became more restless and violent, demanding, "Give us work to do! Give us
work!"

The soldier was almost worn out, and unhappily knew not how to help
himself.

Suddenly a thought occurred to him, "The spirits appeared when I read the
book from the beginning; let me now read it from the end, perhaps this
well send them way."

He turned the book round and began to read it from the end. After reading
for some time he observed that the number of spirits decreased; the lamp
began again to burn brightly, and there was an empty space around him.

The soldier was delighted, and continued his reading. He read and read
until he had read them all away. And thus he saved himself from the
demons. His comrade came in soon afterwards. The soldier told him what had
happened.

"It is fortunate for you," said his comrade, "that you began to read the
book backwards in time. Had you not thus read them away by midnight they
would have devoured you."

England

There was once a very learned man in the north country who knew all the
languages under the sun, and who was acquainted with all the mysteries of
creation. He had one big book bound in black calf and clasped with iron,
and with iron corners, and chained to a table which was made fast to the
floor; and when he read out of this book, he unlocked it with an iron key,
and none but he read from it, for it contained all the secrets of the
spiritual world. It told how many angels there were in heaven, and now
they marched in their ranks, and sang in their quires, and what were their
several functions, and what was the name of each great angel of might. And
it told of the devils of hell, how many of them there were, and what were
their several powers, and their labors, and their names, and how they
might be summoned, and how tasks might be imposed on them, and how they
might be chained to be as slaves to man.

Now the master had a pupil who was but a foolish lad, and he acted as
servant to the great master, but never was he suffered to look into the
black book, hardly to enter the private room. One day the master was out,
and then the lad, impelled by curiosity, hurried to the chamber where his
master kept his wondrous apparatus for changing copper into gold, and lead
into silver, and where was his mirror in which he could see all that was
passing in the world, and where was the shell which when held to the ear
whispered all the words that were being spoken by anyone the master
desired to know about. The lad tried in vain with the crucibles to turn
copper and lead into gold and silver -- he looked long and vainly into the
mirror; smoke and clouds fleeted over it, but he saw nothing plain, and
the shell to his ear produced only indistinct mutterings, like the
breaking of distant seas on an unknown shore.

"I can do nothing," he said, "as I know not the right words to utter, and
they are locked up in yon book."

He looked round, and, see! the book was unfastened; the master had
forgotten to lock it before he went out. The boy rushed to it, and
unclosed the volume. It was written with red and black ink, and much
therein he could not understand; but he put his finger on a line, and
spelled it through.

At once the room was darkened, and the house trembled; a clap of thunder
rolled through the passage of the old mansion, and there stood before the
terrified youth a horrible form, breathing fire, and with eyes like
burning lamps. It was the Evil One, Beelzebub, whom he had called up to
serve him.

"Set me a task!" said a voice, like the roaring of an iron furnace.

The boy only trembled, and his hair stood up.

"Set me a task, or I shall strangle thee!"

But the lad could not speak. Then the evil spirit stepped towards him, and
putting forth his hands touched his throat. The fingers burned his flesh.
"Set me a task."

"Water yon flower," cried the boy in despair, pointing to a geranium which
stood in a pot on the floor.

Instantly the spirit left the room, but in another instant he returned
with a barrel on his back, and poured its contents over the flower; and
again and again he went and came, and poured more and more water, till the
floor of the room was ankle-deep.

"Enough, enough!" gasped the lad; but the Evil One heeded him not; the lad
knew not the words by which to dismiss him, and still he fetched water.

It rose to the boy's knees, and still more water was poured. It mounted to
his waist, and Beelzebub ceased not bringing barrels full. It rose to his
armpits, and he scrambled to the tabletop. And now the water stood up to
the window and washed against the glass, and swirled around his feet on
the table. It still rose; it reached his breast. In vain he cried; the
evil spirit would not be dismissed, and to this day he would have been
pouring water, and would have drowned all Yorkshire, had not the master
remembered on his journey that he had not locked his book, and had
therefore returned, and at the moment when the water was bubbling about
the pupil's chin, spoken the words which cast Beelzebub back into his
fiery home.

England

Old Mr. Hodgson, master of the grammar school at Bury, was enjoying his
midday meal, when his wooden trencher began to turn round, and he was
immediately convinced that something very wrong was going on in the
schoolhouse. So he hastened thither, and found the boys in great
consternation, for by means of saying the Lord's Prayer backwards they had
raised the devil, and they could not lay him again.

Mr. Hodgson knew that the only way to get rid of him would be to give him
a task which he could not perform, and that, if in three trials they could
not hit upon such a task, the case would be hopeless.

Mr. Hodgson first desired him to count the blades of grass in the castle
croft. This task the devil performed directly. He was next ordered to
count the grains of sand on the school brow. This gave him no more trouble
than the former feat. Only one chance was left. A happy thought occurred
to Mr. Hodgson. He commanded the devil to count the letters in the large
Bible in the parish church. In an instant the devil descended to the lower
regions through the floor of the school, leaving a great crack on the
hearthstone where he passed through, to attest the truth of this story to
future generations.

Scotland

Witchcraft is not named in the next story, but we can scarcely be wrong in
assuming it to be the agent at work in it. We must premise that it was,
perhaps still is, customary in the Lowlands of Scotland, as in other
secluded districts, for tailors to leave their workshops and go into the
farmhouses of the neighborhood to work by the day.

The farmer's wife of Deloraine thus engaged a tailor with his workmen and
apprentices for the day, begging them to come in good time in the morning.
They did so, and partook of the family breakfast of porridge and milk.
During the meal, one of the apprentices observed that the milk jug was
almost empty, on which the mistress slipped out of the back door with a
basin in her hand to get a fresh supply.

The lad's curiosity was roused, for he had heard there was no more milk in
the house; so he crept after her, hid himself behind the door, and saw her
turn a pin in the wall, on which a stream of pure milk flowed into the
basin. She twirled the pin, and the milk stopped. Coming back, she
presented the tailors with the bowl of milk, and they gladly washed down
the rest of their porridge with it.

About noon, while our tailors were busily engaged with the gudeman's
wardrobe, one of them complained of thirst, and wished for a bowl of milk
like the morning's.

"Is that a'?" said the apprentice; "ye'se get that."

The mistress was out of the way, so he left his work, found his way to the
spot he had marked in the morning, twirled the pin, and quickly filled a
basin. But, alas! he could not then stay the stream. Twist the pin as he
would, the milk still continued to flow. He called the other lads, and
implored them to come and help him; but they could only bring such tubs
and buckets as they found in the kitchen, and these were soon filled.

When the confusion was at its height, the mistress appeared among them,
looking as black as thunder; while she called out, in a mocking voice,
"A'ye loons! Ye hae drawn a' the milk fra every coo between the head o'
Yarrow an' the foot o't. This day ne'er a coo will gie her maister a drop
o' milk, though he war gawing to starve."

The tailors slunk away abashed, and from that day forward the wives of
Deloraine have fed their tailors on nothing but chappit 'taties and kale.

Scotland

A Mass John Scott, minister of Peebles, is reported to have been the last
renowned exorciser, and to have lost his life in a contest with an
obstinate spirit. This was owing to the conceited rashness of a young
clergyman, who commenced the ceremony of laying the ghost before the
arrival of Mass John. It is the nature, it seems, of spirits disembodied,
as well as embodied, to increase in strength and presumption, in
proportion to the advantages which they may gain over the opponent. The
young clergyman losing courage, the horrors of the scene were increased to
such a degree, that, as Mass John approached the house in which it passed,
he beheld the slates and tiles flying from the roof, as if dispersed with
a whirlwind. At his entry, be perceived all the wax tapers (the most
essential instruments or conjuration) extinguished, except one, which
already burned blue in the socket. The arrival of the experienced sage
changed the scene: he brought the spirit to reason; but unfortunately,
while addressing a word or advice or censure to his rash brother, he
permitted the ghost to obtain the last word, a circumstance which, in all
colloquies of this nature, is strictly to be guarded against. This fatal
oversight occasioned his falling into a lingering disorder, of which be
never recovered.

Iceland

Sæmund the Wise owned a whistle that would sommon one or more imps,
and they would have to serve the person who had blown the whistle. One
day a servant girl discovered the whistle, which Sæmund had hidden
in his bed. Her curiousity led her to pick it up and blow it. Immediately
an imp appeared and demanded a task from her.

Now ten of Sæmund's sheep had been slaughtered that day, and their
fleeces were lying outside. The girl told the imp to count the hairs on
all the fleeces, and that if he could do so before she finished making the
bed, she would belong to him.

The imp hurried away and began his task, but the girl was even faster. He
still had one fleece left to count when she had finished making the bed,
so he lost the bargain.

Later Sæmund asked the girl if she had found anything in the bed.
She told him everything, and he was pleased with her presence of mind.